Nightingales on Call (19 page)

‘It’s a port and lemon. Try it, I think you’ll like it.’

She took a sip. To her surprise, it tasted rather good. Sweet, but with a slightly bitter edge to it. ‘That’s gorgeous.’ She quickly drained the glass and set it down on the table.

Hugo’s brown eyes widened in surprise. ‘Steady on! You don’t want to get tipsy, do you?’

Effie looked at the empty glass. ‘I don’t think there’s much chance of getting tipsy on
that
.’

‘You think you can hold your drink?’ Hugo laughed.

‘I know I can,’ Effie replied seriously. ‘Katie and I once got hold of a bottle of my daddy’s poteen, just to see what it was like.’

‘And?’

‘And Katie was sick as a dog after one glass, but I managed half the bottle. And I could still see straight to go out and feed the chickens,’ Effie said proudly.

Hugo put down his glass. ‘In that case, I’d better get you another one.’

After three glasses, Effie had forgotten her nerves and was chatting away to him as if they were old friends. He asked lots of questions about her family, and her village in Ireland, and he seemed very amused by what she’d told him. Effie began to wonder if she should try to be more aloof and sophisticated, but she didn’t know how to be anything but herself.

She tried to change the subject and asked Hugo about himself. He told her he was in his final year as a medical student at the Nightingale, his father was a doctor, his mother a former nurse, and his younger brother was in his first year at Oxford. The family lived in a leafy suburb of London that Effie had never heard of.

‘I’m afraid it’s all very boring compared to your riotous life in Killarney,’ he sighed.

‘Do you like being a doctor?’ Effie asked.

‘I never really thought about doing anything else.’ He shrugged. ‘My father was a doctor, and his father before him. It was sort of expected, I suppose.’

‘That’s exactly like me,’ Effie said. ‘My four older sisters are all nurses, so everyone told me I should be one, too.’

‘And did you want to be a nurse?’

‘I wanted to get away from Killarney, and nursing seemed the best way to do it,’ Effie admitted frankly. ‘I wanted to come to London because it seemed so exciting. Although I haven’t seen much excitement up until now,’ she sighed.

Hugo smiled at her over the rim of his glass. ‘We’ll have to see what we can do about that, won’t we?’

Effie was disappointed when the bell rang for last orders. Hugo looked at his watch and said he should walk her back to the hospital.

‘But I’m having such a nice time!’ she cried.

Hugo smiled. ‘So am I, my sweet, but it would be very irresponsible of me to keep you out too late. Besides, I promised to meet my friends for cards, and they’ll be rather annoyed with me if I keep them waiting any longer.’

As they stepped outside into the moonlight, he reached for her hand. ‘Just in case you stumble in the dark.’

‘Oh, no, it’s quite all right,’ Effie assured him. ‘It’s not nearly as dark as the country lanes in Killarney. I can see where I’m going in pitch black.’

Hugo sighed. ‘My dear girl, you do realise I’m only using it as an excuse to hold your hand?’

‘Oh! Sorry.’ Effie slipped her hand into his. She really should ask Katie more about this courtship malarkey, she decided. She needed to know what to expect if she was going to have a boyfriend.

They had missed the last bus, and so had to walk back to Bethnal Green. It was nearly midnight by the time they reached the wrought-iron gates of the hospital.

‘If you can distract the Night Porter, I’ll sneak past,’ Effie said. ‘Once I get to the nurses’ home, my sister says there’s a drainpipe that’s easy to climb.’

‘Don’t break your neck, will you?’ Hugo said. ‘I’d hate to find you on Female Orthopaedic when we do our rounds tomorrow.’

‘I’ll be fine. I’m used to climbing trees.’

Hugo shook his head. ‘You’re quite unique, Euphemia,’ he said.

Effie peered at his face in the darkness, trying to make out whether he was complimenting her or not. It was hard to tell.

‘Right, I’ll go and have a word with that porter,’ Hugo said. Then he turned back to her and said, ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to have dinner with me next week?’

Effie suddenly thought about Anna’s words of wisdom.
Don’t be too forward. Let the man do the chasing.

‘I’d love that,’ she said.

Jess was sitting up in bed reading her anatomy textbook when she heard the noise outside. It was almost midnight and she should have turned her lamp off hours ago. But the book was so fascinating she kept turning the pages, even though she was worn out and her eyelids were growing so heavy she could barely make out the diagrams.

She hadn’t realised she had fallen asleep until the noise woke her up with a start. She put aside the book that had slid out of her hands on to the quilt, switched off the lamp and scrambled out of bed to peer out of the window.

The noise stopped. But just as Jess was turning away from the window she heard it again. A strange rustling, coming from the bushes.

Jess shaded her eyes with her hand and peered again into the gloom, then jumped back with a scream as a face suddenly appeared below her, pale and ghostly in the moonlight.

Then she realised who it was.

She jerked open the window. ‘What are you doing?’ she hissed.

‘Oh, thank God it’s you.’ Effie smiled up at her. ‘I thought Sister Sutton had heard me.’

‘It’s a wonder she didn’t, the racket you’re making.’ Jess pressed her hand over her hammering heart.

‘Sorry. I’m trying to find the drainpipe to climb up. I don’t suppose you know which one it is, do you?’ Effie gazed about her vaguely. She looked so comical, standing there with her shoes in her hand.

‘I think it’s round the back.’ As Effie started to tiptoe off, Jess sighed and said, ‘But it’ll be a lot easier if you just climb in through this window.’

Effie hesitated. ‘Are you sure? I don‘t want to get you into any trouble.’

‘You’ll get yourself into trouble if you end up with a broken neck!’ Jess eased the window wider open, cringing at the squeak it made. ‘Pass me your shoes and then climb up.’

It took a while to haul Effie through the window. She landed on Jess’ mat in an ungainly tangle of long arms and legs.

Jess switched the lamp on, and Effie squinted up at her surroundings. ‘So this is your room.’ She looked up at the bookshelves and giggled. ‘Look at all those books. Are they all yours?’

‘Yes.’ Jess saw the grin on Effie’s face and bristled. ‘Why is it funny that I like to read?’

‘I’m sorry, it’s not funny. I just find it strange that anyone enjoys reading. I hate it!’

‘You don’t know what you’re missing.’

‘You might be right. But I prefer to experience real life, not to read about it in books.’

Jess watched her as she untangled herself and stood up. ‘You look as if you’ve experienced real life tonight,’ she commented dryly. ‘You reek of cigarette smoke.’ She leaned closer and sniffed. ‘Have you been drinking?’

‘Just a bit!’ Effie clamped her fingers over her lips to stifle a giggle. ‘Oh, Jess, it was wonderful!’ Effie’s wide blue eyes were dreamy. ‘I think I’m in love.’

‘Good for you.’ Jess went to the door and opened it a crack. ‘Now, we’ve got to get you back up to your room before Sister Sutton notices.’

‘Oh, it’ll be grand. She’ll be fast asleep by now.’

‘She’s got ears like a bat. And if she doesn’t hear you, Sparky will.’ Jess peered out, checking the coast was clear. ‘Go on, I think it’s safe.’

‘Thank you.’ Effie’s whisper seemed to echo around the darkened hallway. ‘I won’t forget this, I swear . . .’

‘Careful!’ Jess saw the shadowy outline of the coatstand a split second before Effie backed into it. It wobbled, then fell in agonising slow motion, landing with a crash that reverberated through the whole building. Jess barely had a moment to spring forward and push Effie into the shadowy recess of the broom cupboard before Sister Sutton’s door opened and she stood there outlined in the light from her room, her bulky frame swaddled in a flannel dressing gown. Sparky pranced around her ankles, his four feet leaving the ground as he bounced up and down, yapping with excitement.

‘Who’s there?’ she called out into the gloom.

‘It’s me, Sister.’ Jess found her voice. ‘I was just – er – fetching a glass of water, and I knocked the coatstand over.’

‘Really! How clumsy of you. And most inconsiderate, too, waking everyone up with your unseemly racket.’

‘Yes, Sister. I’m very sorry, Sister.’ Out of the corner of her eye Jess caught a flash of movement as Effie slipped out of the broom cupboard and made for the stairs. Luckily, Sister Sutton didn’t notice her, but Sparky did. He dashed from his mistress’ side, yapping madly.

‘Sparky?’ Sister Sutton peered into the darkness. ‘What is it, boy? Where’s that light switch? I can’t see a thing.’

‘I’ll get it, Sister.’ Jess got to the light switch before her and made a great show over fumbling with it, praying that Effie would make it up the stairs before she switched it on.

‘Hurry up, girl!’ Sister Sutton ordered.

Jess counted to five and then switched on the light. She heard Sister Sutton’s gasp of outrage and hardly dared look over her shoulder.

‘Look at this mess!’ When she finally steeled herself to look, she saw no sign of Effie. But the coatstand was on the floor, coats and cloaks and hats everywhere, and Sister Sutton standing in the middle of it, her hands on her wide hips. Sparky, thankfully, had given up on his search and returned to her side. ‘You clumsy girl! You must make sure everything is tidied up before the morning, do you understand?’

‘Yes, Sister,’ Jess said.

‘And see you’re quiet about it, too!’ Summoning Sparky to her heels, Sister Sutton stomped back to her room.

Jess stared up at the ceiling.

You owe me a big favour, Effie O’Hara, she thought.

‘
ARE YOU SURE
about this?’ Dora asked.

Millie lifted her eyes to heaven. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake! We’ve been through all this before. Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise, would I?’

‘But what about your grandmother? Won’t she mind?’

‘My grandmother has chosen everything else for my wedding, so why shouldn’t I be allowed to choose my own bridesmaids?’

Her friend hadn’t answered her question, Dora realised. She couldn’t imagine what the Dowager Countess of Rettingham would say when she found out her granddaughter had chosen a cockney girl as one of her attendants, and not one of her posh debutante friends.

Dora looked up at the building in front of her, a beautiful Georgian house overlooking Green Park, with a polished brass plaque beside the front door bearing the words: Madeleine Vachet, Couturier. She had been trying to push her fears about this moment to the back of her mind, but now they were actually here, at their first fitting, they threatened to overwhelm her.

Millie smiled encouragingly at her. ‘Please don’t worry about my grandmother. In spite of any impression I may have given, she is really very sweet. And I want you and Dawson to be my bridesmaids. We’ve been through so much together over the last three years, I couldn’t think of anyone else I would want with me.’ She looked up the busy street. ‘Speaking of which, where is Dawson? She said she’d meet us here at two, but it’s nearly ten-past now. I hope she hasn’t missed her bus?’

‘I’m sure she’ll be here,’ Dora said. She didn’t want to say it to Millie, but she wondered if there was another reason why their friend hadn’t come.

It was less than a year since Helen Dawson had wed Charlie, the love of her life. He had been gravely ill when she married him, and her friends at the hospital had rallied round to give them a wedding to remember. A week later, Charlie died.

Since then, Helen had done her best to keep up a good front. She had passed her State Final exams and moved into the staff nurses’ home. Dora saw her occasionally when she had to take a patient down to Theatre, or they would meet for a cup of tea when they both had time off. Helen always seemed to be her calm, smiling self, and gave the outward appearance of quietly getting on with her life. But every so often Dora would catch a glimpse of the haunted loneliness in her dark eyes.

Perhaps this was all too soon for her? She had seemed delighted when Millie first asked her to be a bridesmaid, but maybe the reality had proved too much. Dora wouldn’t have blamed her for backing out.

Millie looked at her watch. ‘We’d better go in anyway,’ she said, reaching up to pull the bell. ‘We’re late as it is, and Madame hates to be kept waiting.’

Madame Vachet’s
atelier
was at the top of several narrow flights of stairs. A maid in a black uniform opened the door to them and ushered them through the waiting room, with its thick carpets, chandeliers and pale yellow brocade sofas, into the fitting room. This room reminded Dora of a painting she had once seen by a famous French artist. The walls were painted a rich cream, with small gilt chairs set out in rows. Heavy swags of black-and-white-striped silk trimmed the two tall windows. In one corner stood a screen, like the ones they used on the wards, except this one was hung with Chinese embroidery. Even the air smelled expensive, richly perfumed with the scent of musk.

The maid helped them off with their coats, hats and gloves, offered them coffee and informed them Madame Vachet would be with them shortly, then disappeared into the waiting room. Millie picked up one of the magazines and started flicking through it, completely relaxed in these grand surroundings, but Dora perched on the edge of a black velvet-covered couch. From down the passageway she could hear the whirring of sewing machines and the sound of women’s voices. Dora smiled to herself. It was just like her days on the machines at Gold’s Garments, before she’d started training as a nurse.

Madame Vachet appeared shortly afterwards. She was very slight but utterly terrifying, with almond-shaped eyes, and dark hair drawn back off her face in a bun so tight it pulled the skin of her face taut. She was dressed in a tight black sweater and wide crepe trousers that seemed to swish around her like a skirt when she moved.